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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29796936">all heros fall</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetsand/pseuds/sunsetsand'>sunsetsand</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the unfinished symphony (and it's final note) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angry Wilbur Soot, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Five Stages of Grief, Fluff, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Protective Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Protective Wilbur Soot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:06:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,076</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29796936</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetsand/pseuds/sunsetsand</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>more people care about tommy than previously thought.<br/>or,<br/>the five stages of grief expressed in five different people as they react to news of Tommy's death.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cara | CaptainPuffy &amp; Sam | Awesamdude, Clay | Dream &amp; Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo &amp; Toby Smtih | Tubbo, Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo &amp; TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot &amp; Technoblade &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot &amp; TommyInnit &amp; Phil Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>the unfinished symphony (and it's final note) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2190195</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>265</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>all heros fall</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>original idea for one scene in this (and this fic technically) goes to @softlanterns on twitter!</p><p>tw// fighting, verbal argument, death</p><p>i was so sad after watching todays lore stream i wrote this. whoever decided killing off c!tommy, count your fucking days /j</p><p>enjoy my angst with a fluffy ending</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>Denial</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo stood there in shock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Awesamdude stood infront of him. The normally foolproof persona, “The warden”, had been shattered completely. He stood infront of Tubbo, tears streaming down his face, his hair ruffled and his whole body shaking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo, he’s dead.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The younger boy chuckled. “What do you mean? No, he’s in the prison with Dream.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam put ran a hand through his slicked back hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tubbo, Dream beat Tommy to death. He’s- He’s dead, Tubbo.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s not possible. Tommy- If Tommy </span>
  <em>
    <span>died, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’d go out with a bang! Fighting to the death for his discs or his hotel, probably.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look in the chat yourself, Tubbo.” Sam stood straighter. “I have to leave. I have to- I have to tell Puffy.” He finished, a tear slipping down his cheek. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s not dead. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is a prank, a really weird and annoying joke.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Surely not. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ranboo walked up to Tubbo. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened, Tubbo? Sam told me to come as soon as possible.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tubbo cocked his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sam, he, uh, told me Tommy died. That Dream beat him to death.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ranboo put a hand over his mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, no this can’t be real. Tell me it’s not real, Tubbo.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sam didn’t seem like he was joking. Maybe he’s just really good at lying?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ranboo fell to the ground. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, this can’t- I- No, please, not another, I can’t live knowing I-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The enderman hybrid sat on the ground, rocking intensely and sobbing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why am I so emotionless? I should be screaming, or crying, or fighting. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is real, why does it feel so fake? Why can’t I be normal?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ranboo, is this real? Can you pinch me or something?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Anger</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Captain Puffy quickly answered the hurried knocks on her door. “Sam?” She asked confused. “I thought you were on prison duty, what’s going on?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam walked into the house and shut the door behind him. “Puffy, I don’t know how to tell you this.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, today’s the day Tommy gets out, isn’t it? God, I better go visit him. I- I failed him, Sam. I have to be there for him from here on out.” She replied, sweeping the tissues off the floor into trashbags. “I should’ve been there for him, I should’ve- I don’t know. But I can fix this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Puffy?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Sam?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Puffy.. Tommy… Tommy, he-” Sam’s voice sounded rough from crying. Puffy glanced at him, calculating his tone, his attire, his demeanor-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sam, tell me you’re fucking lying.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s dead.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“NO!” She screamed, knocking over a jar of gemstones. Sam fliched at the noise, covering his ears. Despite wearing no armor, Puffy towered over the creeper hybrid. “You’re telling me you left a </span>
  <em>
    <span>child, </span>
  </em>
  <span>a truamatized child with his abuser for a WEEK? For a week and then you let his abuser </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking kill him?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam stepped back awkwardly. “I was just trying to protect everyone, Just trying to do my job,”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“HE’S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU! HE’S DEAD BECAUSE YOU WOULDN’T HIM OUT!” Puffy shouted, throwing a plate in Sam’s face. “Did he beg you to let him out, Sam? Did he cry out for you to let him free?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam, almost imperceptibly, nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You disgust me.” She spat. “Get out.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam looked at her with misery in his eyes. “What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“GET OUT! GET OUT GET OUT GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!” She screamed. “NEVER FUCKING LOOK AT ME AGAIN!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sam left the house. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Puffy shrank into a corner, sobbing. “I failed him. I killed him. He’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead....”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Bargaining</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Technoblade approached the obsidian cell, clutching the poorly made string of beads Tommy had assembled for him long long ago, in the comfort and laughter of their friends. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dream.” He remarked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Technoblade.” He heard a voice call out from the shadows of the prison. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You killed him.” Technoblade uttered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream emerged from the shadows, and promptly took a bite out of a raw potato. “Suppose I did, didn’t I?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know what i’m here for, then?” The piglin replied gruffly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes. I’m just not going to give it to you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can break you out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m well aware.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have diamonds. And netherite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“As do I, in my enderchest. Place one down and let’s compare.” Dream sneered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have totems. Enchanted apples. Potions.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have that already, Techno. You can’t offer me anything I can’t get. From the moment I arrived in this prison, I’ve had at least 5 people tell me they’ll break me out at my command.” Dream took another bite out of the spud. “You might be a step ahead of everyone else, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Technoblade,</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dream  mocked. “But i’m always 10 steps ahead of you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what? You’re just going to loom the book over everyone? I could just kill you.” Techno countered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God, the ammount of times i’ve heard that. No, you can’t kill me. When will you people realize I’m always in control?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Techno’s eyes turned a dangerous bloodshot red. “Dream, I will find that book. I’ll never stop searching, I’ll kill you a thousand times-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dream cackled. “Oh Technoblade. I thought you’d be the first one to see through me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The younger man walked right up to the newly-instated bars, and rubbed the blood off his own lip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Of course Tommy went down fighting.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bruises and gashes covered Dream’s body, and one of his eyes was a sickening purple.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There is no book. I made it up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Depression</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phil started having nightmares. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s never had nightmares, never </span>
  <em>
    <span>used </span>
  </em>
  <span>to have them. Things changed when Tommy died. Call it a guilty conscience, a curse, or just karma. Call it the universe twisting the knife ever so ruthlessly in the gaping wound in Phil’s heart-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or just call it nightmares. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It had been a particularly rough day, after having to collect the things from Tommy’s house. Jack and Quackity were bulldozing the place to make space for the new hotel addition. Phil was exhausted, physically, mentally, emotionally. He just wanted to rest, wanted to forget two of his three sons lay dead, not breathing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phil found himself standing a beach, breathing in the salty air. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Logshedshire, </span>
  </em>
  <span>He thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ruins of Tommy’s former exile sight lay, aged by time. Phil felt the shattered wood logs crunch under his feet, and approached the figure standing in the rubble. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy, he recognized.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tom?” He called out, clutching his black coat as the wind whipped around him fiercely. “Tommy, is that you?” He pushed against the winds forcing him back. He was almost there, almost touching his deceased son.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The second his fingertips began to rest on his youngest son’s shoulders, Tommy began to dissipate infront of him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, no, no!” He cried, grasping, reaching out for the atoms as they floated into the sky. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phil crumpled to the ground, unable to breathe or think or feel without exploding. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt like he was dying, like he was suffocating. Each breath was a challenge, a small miracle, and his lungs felt like they were collapsing in on himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s how he felt, y’know. When he was being beaten to death, I mean. He died in pain.” A familar voice spoke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phil gasped at the voice. “Will?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt himself being pulled up by the collar of his shirt, and stared directly into the eyes of his eldest son. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call me Will.” Was all Wilbur replied before dropping him to the ground again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I left you with one job, Phil. Do you recall?” The taller man questioned, lighting a cigarette. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phil got up, tears welling in his eyes. “Wilbur, I-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I told you to keep him safe, Phil. I said that as you stabbed me.” He answered bitterly. “I left him to you, stupidly thinking you’d be able to keep him safe. And now? He’s dead.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have to understand, Will-” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wilbur pushed his father against the rough bark of an oak tree with Tommy’s initials carved into it’s side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“DON’T CALL ME WILL.” He said, before pushing Phil into the ground. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wilbur returned to his calm demeanor. “You’ll just have to see it for yourself, won’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The world around Phil collapsed. Suddenly, he was at L’manburg- or what was left. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Imagine this.” Wilbur said, appearing into thin air infront of him. “You’re 16, you’re scared, you’re traumatized, you’ve just escaped months of psychological torture. And your home- the home you built yourself, died for, gave up everything up for, is gone. Blown to smithereens, by your own family.” Wilbur kicked at the rubble. “Have you ever been alone, armourless, weaponless, as you watch the destruction of everything you’ve ever worked for?” He sneered. “Didn’t think so.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, a large string of lit TNT fell from the sky. The blast plunged Phil into darkness, again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tension of the string that lays in Phil’s fingers become more apparent as the bow and arrow attached to it come into view. He quickly realizes he is stuck, that he can’t move. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He also realizes he is face to face with Dream. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He was nine, you know. Nine years old, standing infront of ‘Big, Bad Dream’ as we all cheered him on.” Wilbur stood on the ledge of the wooden bridge. “I was- naive, and reckless, and selfish. I thought maybe if- if we could win, and get our independence, I could build a better life for Tommy.” He said, a wave of guilt washing over his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phil felt terrified, looking into the eyes of Dream. Knowing several eyes were on him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We did this, Phil.” Wilbur replied weakly. The younger man stood there for a moment, his face darkening. “No. No, you did this. Not me. You.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The scene faded into darkness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phil felt the cool touch of obsidian as he was pushed into it. He was bruised, broken, and bloody. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“GOD, CAN’T YOU JUST DIE?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was the jail cell, Phil recognised instantly. Except, it wasn’t Dream punching him, It was Wilbur. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YOU RUINED US! YOU KILLED US!” Wilbur screamed, punching Phil in the face with his fist. “You never loved me or him. That much was obvious.” Phil barely dodged the second punch headed for his head. “No, no. Nobody was ever going to stop your little </span>
  <em>
    <span>Technoblade.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The punch to Phil’s stomach sent him flying to the other side of the prison. “You never cared. You never held our hands or helped us learn to fight.” Wilbur slowly walked towards him. “You abandoned him. You abandoned me, all because we were too much of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>hassle. </span>
  </em>
  <span>A </span>
  <em>
    <span>nuisance.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older man scrambled away from Wilbur. “YOU LEFT HIM TO DIE, LEFT HIM TO DIE IN AGONY!” Wilbur cried, nearing Phil. “I wonder where our lives would be if you had chosen to give a single fuck about me or Tommy.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blow knocked Phil through the walls, and suddenly he was standing in a forest. Infront of him lay a single grave, adorned with flowers long since dead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phil felt a cold hand on his shoulder. “Maybe if you had even tried to care, Tommy would still be alive.” He said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phil was falling, he was falling in a seemingly-bottomless pit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He woke up in a cold sweat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Acceptance</em>
  </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The searing pain, with no warning, stopped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Has Dream stopped? Has he let me live?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy reluctantly opened his eyes to a white void. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where am I?” He called out. “What- What happened?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Schlatt appeared in a corner, leaning against nothing. He took a long swig from a brandy bottle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re in the afterlife, kid.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Tommy could react, Wilbur crashed into his sight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Schlatt, my connection with Tommy, it stopped, it’s like it went-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dead.” Schlatt finished, before haph-hazardly pointing to Tommy, who was still stumbling to get up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wilbur stepped back, aghast. “No, no, no, I tried to warn him… It’s, oh god no,” He mumbled, rushing towards Tommy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wilby?” Tommy uttered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wilbur embraced his younger brother. “Yes, Tommy. I’m here.” He replied, rubbing his thumb into circles on the younger boy’s back methodically. “I’m here, and i’m never going to let you go.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy fell into the embrace of his older brother, sniffling. “Wilby, am I- really-.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wilbur nodded, silently. He heard a small, anguished cry, and held Tommy all the more tighter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, Toms. I’m here for you.” He croaked, his throat closing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two sat there, intertwined. For the first time, in a long time, Tommy felt loved. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tommy felt accepted.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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